


i'm coming home to you

by beccasaur



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccasaur/pseuds/beccasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She kisses you like she’s making you human again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm coming home to you

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Every Night" by Imagine Dragons.

She kisses you like she’s cataloguing your body; every mark, blemish, scar. When her fingers find a knot of muscle, they work at it, loosening it, until she can soothe the area over and over with her tongue and her lips. She’s focussed, intent. You can almost see it in her mind: _time since last entry, two years._ (For her, not for you; never for you.) _Modifications, 12. New entries, 7._

She doesn’t ask where you got the new scars; why would she need to, when she knows the answer? Barely says anything, in fact, she’s so intent on what she’s doing. Your fingers tangle in her hair as she licks over a nipple, and she stays there a moment, knowing all too well what you like; nothing is hurried, and you feel as though it wouldn’t matter, if you never get any farther, it feels so good to have her there, able to relax you in ways nothing else can.

She kisses you like she’s making you human again. Her tongue works over the join between flesh and metal at your shoulder, erasing the difference and treating them both the same; she moves to your face, pressing feather-light kisses at the edge of your mask, and she’s telling you that it doesn’t matter to her, what you are. Just who you are.

When she peels it off, tosses it aside, brushes her lips over your eyelids, it’s a reminder that there’s no Winter Soldier, in this room. No Black Widow. There’s just James and Natalia. You are both weapons, moulded by those that you work for, nothing but a few broken memories to really call your own, but you can be people for one night. You can make your own decisions, you can have something that is _yours_ , and not theirs. Keeping this secret is never going to be a problem. Who else do you have to tell? 

She kisses you like she has all the time in the world, like you’re not sneaking around and breaking the rules. She’s promised to somebody else, but it doesn’t matter; she doesn’t love him, not like she loves you. Everything could be rushed, with how desperate you are to lose yourself inside her, forget everything but her, your Natalia, and yet she draws it out, slows it down, makes each moment seem like a lifetime. It needs to, with how little you are awake, with how this one night is going to be all that she has of you for years. 

–

The next time you do this, everything is different. It is you laying her down, her smile that meets you; however used you are to adapting to the new world you wake up in, this time is different, a bigger change than you could ever have imagined, but she remains the same. She has always been the one constant in your life. Your Natalia; you can’t call her anything else, just as she always calls you James. When she learns that you’re called Bucky, she laughs—laughs for the first time since you woke up, and it warms a heart you’d believed to be stone.

You kiss her like she’s the one who is lost, rather than the one who put you back together again. You thought you might never have this again, that she was gone forever—but you kiss her like she’s found. Like she’s yours. No-one will ever be able to own her, she doesn’t belong to anybody, and that’s how it should be, you’d shoot anybody who tried to claim otherwise, but she allows you to think it, regardless. She lets you kiss her, eventually, coaxing her away from how controlled she is, how unwilling she seems to feel.

It is a slow burn, something that builds in looks, in brushes of fingers, in breathing the same air long before your lips touch. When you remove her clothes, you are stripping her of her armour, of everything that she hides behind, fingertips and tongue revealing the real Natalia – Natasha, now, but she’s still the same – beneath. But it isn’t until you skim your metal fingers over her thigh, lips following, that her mask slips away. 

You kiss her like you’re making sure that she’s real, like you don’t trust your own eyes. (If memory can’t be trusted, who’s to say that what you see isn’t real too?) Her skin is warm to the touch, and you rest your head over her heart for a moment, feeling its beat, before moving up to her neck, latching onto the pulse point there. She’s alive; you can feel it.

Losing yourself in her is easy. You can’t think of anything else, and why would you want to? If you close your eyes all you can hear are the voices, you find yourself struggling to breathe under the sea of red that’s drowning you, but with her beneath you, the only thing you can think about is her. Natalia; it all comes back to her, doesn’t it? You always come back to her.


End file.
